


Appearances

by rabid_plotbunny



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Crack, Gen, angsty crack because it's Vincent, crack!fic, sort-of crack anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabid_plotbunny/pseuds/rabid_plotbunny
Summary: Something's wrong with Vincent.





	Appearances

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to IJ/LJ 12-16-2008

Vincent didn't know what was wrong with him. He'd felt well enough when he'd been roused from his thirty-year sleep and for long enough afterward to see the end of Sephiroth.

Now, though.

Now, he could barely limp through the day. He slept early and late, and _still_ needed that mid-day nap to keep going.

He was so _tired._

Was this unrelenting lethargy yet another side-effect of Hojo's experimentation? Would one of his naps have him waking only to find that another thirty years had gone by?

He sat alone at a dark corner table in Tifa's new bar and worried. As if the tiredness wasn't enough all on its own, Chaos was being quiet and felt almost... content.

And when a demon that revels in death, destruction, and... well... _chaos_ was feeling pleasant, it was definitely time to worry.

Another yawn slipped past his guard, making him grateful – though not for the first time – for the deep collar of his cape that hid the bottom half of his face from the other patrons. At least he could hang on to his 'dark and mysterious' image for a while longer....

He managed to hold out until supper-time, but the mere thought of having to scrape up the energy to _eat_ made him want to hit his head on the table. Giving up the fight, he excused himself and retreated upstairs to the little room he'd been told was his for as long as he wanted it.

Honestly. It was as if they thought that now that Sephiroth was defeated, he would automatically decide to return to the mansion in Nibelheim and slip back into his coffin!

...Actually, now that he thought about it, that didn't sound too bad.

If only he could figure out why he was so damned _tired!_

Well, maybe he would. He'd been a Turk once, after all.

***

Cid stared at the scene before him, for a long moment unable to do anything but blink.

Well, damn. Now there was something you didn't see every day!

Vincent, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Angsty himself, dressed in his familiar black leathers and red cloak, was sitting at a table in a bar that was definitely _not_ Tifa's, surrounded by a large crowd of similarly-attired emo-children with questionable taste in make-up. Even more strange was the fact that he didn't seem to mind the crowd, didn't look like he would rather be somewhere – _anywhere_ – else, didn't shy away from them at all.

In fact, it looked like he was having the time of his life; a condensation-covered mug of _something_ in one hand, gesturing with the other as he tried to get a point across.

What the...?

The big blond made his way over to the table where the gunslinger and his – companions? Minions? – sat. “Vincent?”

Vincent glanced over briefly, then turned back to his audience. “Cid,” he acknowledged.

Cid waited a moment, but apparently that was all he was getting as the brunet tuned back into the flow of conversation around them, occasionally joining in with some observation or other.

“Uh, Vin?” Cid asked, frowning. What was wrong with Vincent? He wasn't acting like himself. He'd noticed that the other man seemed troubled lately, that he seemed to need much more sleep than he'd been getting, but this was something else altogether. For one, he seemed to lack no energy at all, almost thrumming with it. Secondly, this was _Vincent_. With _strangers_. Apparently having a great time when he still hadn't even half opened up to the group of Sephiroth-hunters he'd been with for months. “Vincent, what are you doing?”

A sideways glance from behind that wild mess of fringe. “What am I doing?” he asked, tone amused. He considered briefly, taking a contemplative sip of his drink – was it really supposed to almost- _glow_ like that? – then answered. “Angsting. That's what I'm always doing, isn't it? I angst.” A chorus of darkly amused agreement rose from the crowd around them, most nodding or sipping their drinks even as they attempted to look even more emo and suffering than they had been.

“Oooooookay, then.” Now _that_ was a weird answer if ever he'd heard one. Sure, it was Vincent and in a way the answer was par for the course, but there was something wrong, he could feel it. 

It was only when Vincent cast yet another brief glance his way that he saw just how right he was.

A hard swallow, then he reached out, grabbed Vincent by the arm and pulled him to his feet. “C'mon, Vin,” he said shortly. “We've gotta talk. Outside. _Now._ ”

“Hey!” the guy – it _was_ a guy, wasn't it? - sitting next to Vincent said, glaring, the cry quickly becoming a chorus of accusation as the others took note of Cid's grip on Vincent's arm. “Let him go!”

“It's all right,” Vincent said, his familiar quiet tones cutting through the din in a way that even the loudest yelling couldn't. He straightened, jerked his arm from Cid's grip. “I'll be right back.”

Cid turned and walked out of the bar, glancing back every now and again to make sure his shadow hadn't slipped away. Once outside, he headed for a small park a block or two down the street that was sure to be at least mostly abandoned at that time of night, Vincent following behind him, silent as a the ghost he'd been mistaken for on more than one occasion.

Once they reached the park, he walked over to a bench, then sat down. He was up almost as soon as his behind hit the seat, though, too wound up to sit still. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, then took a few calming puffs before turning to the other man.

“All right, so what's going on?” he said, coming straight to the point. Never let it be said that Cid Highwind was one to beat around the bush when there was a clear path in sight.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Vincent said, his tone one of low, smoky amusement.

“Cut the crap,” Cid said. “Your eyes are showing. What are you up to, Chaos?”

Vincent only smirked. “Chaos?” he said. “I see you figured it out. And what a brave little mortal we are for calling me out on it. Not many would dare to challenge the mighty Chaos.”

“Pftt. I'm not challenging, I'm asking you what you're up to. Are you the reason Vincent's been so tired lately?”

Golden eyes blinked. “Oh,” said the mighty demon in the gunslinger's body. He shook his head, then moved to sit down on the bench. “I see. In answer to your question, yes, I suppose I would be. We _do_ share the same body, so it would only make sense. If I transformed completely, that would be another story and I would use only my own reserves. But then if I transformed completely, it would entirely defeat the purpose of coming out.”

“And that purpose is...? You're not planning to go on a murderous spree across the planet in a quest to bathe in a sea of blood, are you? Because we already had one psycho out doing that and I think it got a bit old.”

Chaos could only stare for a long moment. Then an amused grin spread across Vincent's typically-impassive face, turning into a full-fledged smile complete with amused chuckle. “A murderous rampage to bathe in a sea of blood? My, we _are_ imaginative tonight, aren't we? No, no bloody rampaging. I had my fill of that ages ago.”

“Why, then?”

The humor faded from the pale face, draining away almost tangibly. Golden eyes looked at the pilot then away, staring blankly ahead at a set of empty swings. “You know at least a little of our story, do you not?” he asked at last.

“I know you're one of the demons Hojo stuck in Vincent in one of his nutjob experiments.”

A brief smirk. “...Yes, that's right. I have been bound inside Valentine's body for thirty years now, and before that I was imprisoned inside a ball of Materia for millennia, unable to escape. Now that I'm inside him, I can sometimes see through his eyes, feel things. I've been locked up in the dark and alone for such a long time, long enough to weigh heavily even on a demon.”

Cid stared. “You mean to tell me you're doing this because you're _lonely?_ ”

The dark head nodded slightly. “I don't want to hurt anyone. I just don't want to stay in the dark by myself anymore. I tried telling that to Valentine, but he just shuts me out and pushes me down further. I have to wait until he sleeps to take control of the body.”

Cid stared at the other man for a long while, his thoughts churning madly in his head. On the one hand, he didn't like how droopy and worn out Vincent was getting due to Chaos' nocturnal roaming. On the other, if _he_ had been locked up alone for thousands of years like Chaos had been, he would give anything for even the briefest illusion of companionship, even hide away most of what he was so he could be accepted for even just a little while. It was the fault of neither that they were bound together as they were, but that was how it stood and they were going to have to find a way to deal with it. 

That wasn't going to be easy, he knew that without even thinking. He'd traveled with the other man long enough to know his soul-deep fear of those beings Hojo had bound into him. Convincing Vincent to let Chaos have even the tiniest bit of freedom was going to be hard, though letting him know that the demon had already been using his body to wander harmlessly might help some.

Then again, finding out that Chaos had been out without his even knowing might make Vincent clamp down on them all that much harder.

Speaking of which....

“And the others?” Cid asked.

Chaos frowned. “What?”

“The others in there with you and Vincent. Are they like you, too?”

“Oh. No, they're nothing like me. They're completely nuts and only want to destroy. Their time in their prisons shattered what minds they had long ago and now all they want is the satisfaction of the kill.”

“Great. So I'm supposed to somehow convince Vincent that _you're_ completely sane and reformed, but that the others are all completely nuts.”

“I'm trying, but like I said, he shuts me out and won't listen,” Chaos said, doing a creditable impersonation of Valentine, complete with cloud of doom-and-gloom.

“I listen.”

It took Cid and Chaos a moment to realize that that was Vincen't voice that had just come out of his mouth.

Golden eyes went wide. “What?” he exclaimed. “I thought you were sleeping!”

Gold flashed crimson and lips twisted in a wry smirk. “I was a Turk. I can be sneaky when I want to be. And you can't say that I didn't have good reason. There you were, going on and on about how you just wanted to get out and socialize, and then your contentment, and myself getting more and more tired with every passing day.”

Crimson gave way to gold. “You... you sneak! You were spying on me?”

Red. “Of course. You _are_ a demon.”

Cid could only stare as Vincent-Chaos sat on the bench and apparently argued with himself in two voices that, while similar, were still distinct enough to belong to two people. “You realize that anyone passing by is going to think you're nuts.”

When Vincent-Chaos turned to look at him, Cid could see that one eye was its usual crimson while the other was a shining gold. 

“We're done,” Vincent said simply. “We've reached an agreement.”

“I get to stay!” Chaos almost chirped.

“As long as you stay safe for the people around us,” Vincent reminded.

“Yeah, yeah. I'll even help a little old lady across the street! I get to stay!”

“One other thing,” Vincent said.

“Yes?” Chaos.

“Stop eating the praline pistachios. They gives me heartburn.”

“Awww!”

END


End file.
